


Smile for the Camera

by Amjead



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Bathroom Sex, Dirty Pictures, M/M, Protective John, Public Sex, Rentboys, Sherlock's Past, Toplock I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amjead/pseuds/Amjead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Dr. John Watson receives an anonymous e-mail from someone called The_Black_Cape. The contents of that e-mail is one very private, very personal, very dirty picture of a young Sherlock. Now what is he going to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile for the Camera

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. So, Sherlock's explanations for things are pretty stupid, buuut I think we'll all survive. Anyway, please be gentle and feel free to follow me on tumblr: followallthefandoms

Dr. John Watson was sitting in his flat, alone. Sherlock was out so it was a good opportunity for John to do quiet, mundane things like check his e-mail. John was cycling through his messages, reading some, deleting most. He was actually quite surprised by the amount of junk mail he had. There was one piece of spam, however, that caught John's eye.

The address bar said that the e-mail was from someone called The_Black_Cape. John had no idea who this could be, but it wasn't the address he was looking at. No, it was the subject line that caught his interest. It said, “Look at Sherlock.” John figured that it was most likely spam, but there had been times where the terrifying criminals of London had contacted Sherlock unconventionally through John. So, he clicked on the message. When he saw what it contained, he nearly dropped the cup of tea in his hand.

The e-mail had no message or links, just a single solitary photo. It was a picture of Sherlock reclining on a bed. He looked about ten years younger and deathly thin. That was where the normalcy stopped. Sherlock, in the picture, was completely nude. His head was thrown back. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open as if he were calling out. His cheeks were flushed and his lips looked a bit swollen. Farther down his body, he had two hands wrapped around his erect penis. The head of it was as red as his cheeks and it was visibly leaking.

John went pale. His mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty. He had a million different questions going around in his head. Who took this picture? Who was The_Black_Cape? How did they get this? Why did they send it to John? Most importantly, why did he feel undeniably aroused? That wasn't supposed to happen.

John quickly slammed his laptop shut. He couldn't think about this now. He shut it just in time too. John heard Sherlock close the door downstairs.

“Oh, God.” said John softly as he grabbed his laptop and quickly retreated to the safety of his room. He was not in the proper state to see Sherlock right now. “What am I going to do?” he thought.

John sat on the edge of his bed with the laptop. He didn't particularly want to look at the picture again, but he thought that a second viewing of it might give him some clues to help answer his questions. So, John reopened the e-mail. He tried his best to not look at the masturbating Sherlock and just look at the details of the photo. The first thing John noticed was the location. This picture was definitely not taken in their flat. The second thing he noticed was the angle and quality. The picture was taken from above. Also, the quality suggested that this was an actual photograph as opposed to a still from a security camera or something like that. The photo was obviously taken by another person. Perhaps they were standing on something next to the bed in order to get the angle. 

“Who could have taken this picture?” John wondered.

John was brought out of his thoughts by his flatmate calling, “John, where are you?” from downstairs. Suddenly, John felt excessively aware of the picture in front of him.

“I'm in my room,” John called back weakly. “I was taking a nap.”

John looked back at the picture and sighed. He was now in possession of a very private, very personal, very dirty picture of Sherlock. He was so full of questions and confusing thoughts. When he pushed the laptop off of him, he discovered that he was also quite full of something else. John quietly cursed the erection in front of him as he removed his trousers and pants. He rubbed his dick and tried his best not to think about the picture of young Sherlock as he wanked himself, but that was proving to be very difficult.

The next day, John received another e-mail from The_Black_Cape. The subject was the same. “Look at Sherlock.” John took that literally and looked across the room at his flatmate. He was standing by the window, playing his violin. As John looked at Sherlock, he could feel his face heat up.

“I know there's going to be another dirty picture of him in the e-mail. I really shouldn't look at it,” John thought.

Just then, Sherlock paused his playing. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back slightly to release a lengthy yawn. John's mouth went dry. Sherlock had reenacted the face he was making in yesterday's picture. Thinking about it made John's penis twitch.

“On second thought, maybe I should look at this new picture. It might offer me some more clues.” So, John picked up his laptop and headed for his room.

John clicked on the e-mail to open it up. Just as he expected, it was another smutty photo of a younger, skinnier Sherlock. This time, he was kneeling on the bed with his knees far apart. His eyes were partially closed as if they had been fluttering. Also, he was biting his lower lip. It made him look anguished, yet aroused. 

Lower, Sherlock had his hands behind and sort of underneath himself. He was holding something. After a moment of close looking, John realized that it was a blue dildo in his hands. Most of it had disappeared into Sherlock's body, but the base was still visible. It was causing the younger Sherlock a sizable erection.

“I wonder if he still has that,” thought John absentmindedly as he licked his lips. When John realized what he was thinking though, he admonished himself.

Just then, Sherlock knocked on the door and let himself in. John's head shot up as fast as lightening as he stared dumbly at his flatmate.

“C-can I help you?” John stuttered. “Crap,” he thought. “He's gonna know something's up with me.”

“Are you all right?” Sherlock asked.

“Fine,” answered John as his voice cracked. Sherlock looked at John dubiously, but didn't say anything. That was a first.

Instead Sherlock stated, “I'm going out for a bit.” Then, he left. John slowly exhaled as relief flooded through him. That was close. John looked back at the picture on his laptop.

“What is going on?” John thought.

Throughout the next day, John mentally wrestled with what he should do about the pictures being sent to him.

“Why are they being sent to me?” John thought. “Is someone blackmailing Sherlock? If that's the case, I should probably tell him. How do I bring this up though? I wish they were just regular pictures. That would be easy to tell Sherlock about, but these photos are different. How do I tell Sherlock that someone's been sending me dirty pictures of him? Did he even know that they were being taken? If he didn't, then this could be a lot more serious than I originally thought.”

John got an answer to his latest question in the form of The_Black_Cape's latest, “Look at Sherlock” e-mail. John was sitting in the living room when he received it. Sherlock was occupied with an experiment in the kitchen. So, John opened it up. Young Sherlock was kneeling on the bed again. This time, though, he was looking directly into the camera. His eyes had a coy twinkle in them, almost as if he didn't realize how suggestively he was sucking on that lolly in his hand. John was a bit surprised that he wasn't naked this time. Instead, he was wearing a pair of frilly, blue silk panties. Despite the bit of underwear, they didn't hide anything. Sherlock's trapped package wrapped up in the luxurious fabric was plainly visible. From the waist up, Sherlock was bare save for, “Yes, Sir” written in black paint on his torso.

John tried his best to ignore these sudden aroused feeling as he attempted to connect the three pictures he'd been sent.

“Sherlock definitely knew about this one being taken,” John thought. “I wonder what prompted this. The other photos looked as if he was being caught during intimate moments. This one was obviously posed.” John stared into young Sherlock's hungry, blue-green eyes. “It almost looks like an advertisement,” he thought. “Well, I want what he's selling.” 

John cursed himself for thinking lewd things about Sherlock again.

“I can't do that,” John thought. “It isn't right that I'm getting so titillated by possible blackmail material. Besides, this is Sherlock we're talking about. It's not like he'd have the slightest romantic interest in me anyway.” Regardless, that didn't stop John's budding erection. He quietly slipped upstairs to take care of it. Once he was done, he felt embarrassed and thought to himself. “It's probably best if I don't mention any of this to Sherlock unless I absolutely have to.”

The day after, John was sitting alone with hip laptop again, impatiently anticipating The next e-mail. He distractedly read through blog comments while he waited. Suddenly, John heard Sherlock's footsteps coming up the stairs. He didn't say anything to John. He just flopped onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

“Rough day?” John asked.

“I don't want to talk about it,” sulked Sherlock as he rolled over. John shrugged and looked back at his mailbox. His daily e-mail from The_Black_Cape was there. This time, however, it had a different subject. Today it said, “Watch Sherlock.” John opened it to discover a video file as opposed to a picture. John looked over at Sherlock. He was facing the opposite direction and appeared to be napping. So, John grabbed a pair of nearby ear buds, plugged them in, and clicked on the link.

The video started with whoever was holding the camera walking down a hallway with many doors.

“Let's go see what our little Sherlo's up to,” said a husky man's voice that sounded unfamiliar to John. The camera went up to a door and a disembodied hand pushed it open without knocking. The camera's operator took the viewer into a rather bare room. The only thing in there was an old chair and a plain bed. John recognized the room from the pictures. “Sherlo, get up,” said the man. “I want to take your picture again.”

Young Sherlock sat up from his resting position on the bed. He was wearing a black, silk dressing gown, but it was obvious that he was naked underneath. Another obvious thing about Sherlock in the video was that he was very doped up. His eyes were as red as tomatoes. Seeing Sherlock like this broke John's heart. 

“What are you doing, Sir?” Sherlock asked. His voice was slightly higher with youth.

“I'm filming you,” said the unseen man. Sherlock, being in quite the altered state, giggled weirdly. “Sherlo's a good little boy,” said the man. It made John feel icky. “He makes me lots of money. He even bought me the movie camera I wanted for my birthday. Do something sexy, Sherlo,” he instructed. Sherlock paused for a moment, but then loosened his dressing gown a bit and stroked his body. “Look at you,” said the man. “You're adorable. I'm telling you, Sherlo. I'm gonna make that website. We'll put up all the videos I've been taking and you'll be the star.”

“A website would be most unwise, Sir,” said Sherlock.

“Don't be a little bitch,” the man warned. John didn't like the way this man talked to Sherlock. He wanted to stop watching, but he knew that this video was his best chance at figuring out who sending him these e-mails and why.

“Mr. Andrews will be here soon,” said the man. “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” answered Sherlock.

“You think so?” repeated the man. “Well, I'll make sure you're ready.”

“What are you going to do, Sir?” asked Sherlock weakly as the camera angle changed. The gruff sounding man was in the frame now. He looked old and slovenly. John didn't like him one bit. Anyway, the man grabbed Sherlock by the hair and roughly kissed him. Sherlock didn't pull away, but it was obvious that he didn't want this man kissing him. His open eyes showed sadness and defeat. John felt sick and couldn't watch anymore. Without even stopping the video, he shut his laptop. When he looked up, he was very startled by Sherlock who was now sitting upright on the sofa and looking at him.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked him calmly. John started to sputter out an answer as he pulled out his ear buds, but Sherlock interrupted him. “You look upset. What's wrong?” John thought about how he was going to answer this question. He didn't want to say anything to Sherlock about the pictures unless he had to, but now things felt different. This wasn't just pictures anymore. There was a video and it felt rape-y. John knew he had to say something. So, he took a deep breath and told the truth.

“I think you're being blackmailed,” said John. “For the past few days, someone with the e-mail address The_Black_Cape has been sending me dirty pictures of you from your 20s it seems. I know I should've said something sooner. I'm sorry I didn't. I just didn't know what to say really. Today they sent me a video of you stroking yourself and a man kissing you. It was just so wrong. I knew I couldn't stay silent any longer. Sherlock, what's going on? Who's sending me these things and where did they come from?”

Sherlock stared at John blankly as he thought. John was actually quite surprised by how calm Sherlock seemed about all this.

“How did these pictures and the video make you feel?” Sherlock asked.

“Aroused,” thought John, but he didn't dare say that aloud. Instead, he stated, “That's a pretty odd question to ask. It made me feel uncomfortable I guess. Some random stranger is sending me dirty pictures of my flatmate.”

Sherlock nodded and said, “Well, this is definitely quite the mystery. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I'll be sure to see to it when a moment arises.”

John was taken aback.

“That's it?” John questioned. “Sherlock, someone is greatly violating your privacy. How on Earth can you be so nonchalant about this?” 

“I have my reasons,” Sherlock answered. “Now, if you please, I have some things I need to work out.” With that, Sherlock went to his bedroom. John just sat there in his chair, dumbfounded.

“Well, if he won't care, I will,” thought John. He opened up his laptop, put the ear buds back in and resumed playing the video. He had to get to the bottom of this. When the video started up again, the lecherous man was still kissing Sherlock. It made John squeamish, but more importantly, jealous. Not only did John want this man to stop kissing Sherlock, _he_ wanted to be the one kissing him.

Finally, the man pulled away from Sherlock. The younger man's lips were swollen now.

“Christ, you're beautiful,” said the man as he slipped Sherlock's dressing gown off of him. He tied the sleeves of it around the base of Sherlock's neck and said, “I might just have to have you for myself.” Sherlock gingerly touched the dressing gown.

Sherlock giggled in a dopey way and said, “It looks like a black cape.” That was the end of the video.

John's ears perked up at the last thing Sherlock said.

“It looks like a black cape.” John had a new question now floating through his mind and there was only one person who could answer it. John walked down the hall and gently knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said Sherlock. When John opened the door, Sherlock was sitting on his bed with a box in his lap. He looked up at John expectantly.

“What is it?” asked Sherlock.

John paused at first, but then he slowly asked, “Sherlock, was it you who sent me those pictures?” The two men silently stared at each other for an eternal five seconds. Then, Sherlock slowly nodded his head. John felt his stomach drop.

“Go ahead,” said Sherlock. “I know you have lots of questions.” Sherlock was right. John did have lots of questions.

The first one that came out of John's mouth was, “Why were those pictures taken?” Sherlock took a deep breath and launched into his explanation.

“About ten years ago, I was working as a rent boy,” Sherlock began. “Those three pictures I sent you were like advertisements that the pimp kept in a book to show to clients. Each boy had his own specific draw. Mine was supposed to be that I was a submissive little waif. Anyway, as you could probably guess, life was not good there. So, after many failed attempts, I finally got my act together and left. I took all of the things that were mine and went out to find a new job and place to live. It took quite sometime until I was able to have the comfortable life I have now.”

John took a step closer to Sherlock and looked in the box in his lap.

“What's all this?” John asked.

“This was everything I took when I left the brothel,” Sherlock explained. John looked at the boxes contents: A blue dildo, a pair of frilly blue panties, a black silk dressing gown, the three pictures that had been sent to John, and a video camera. “Technically, the camera isn't mine,” said Sherlock. “I had to take it though. I knew what he was filming and it made me sick. I knew that taking it wouldn't stop him, but at least he wasn't using the camera I got him for his birthday to film his lewd acts. I kept the one video of me though. I use it as a reminder of why I quit using.”

“So, you scanned the pictures and downloaded the video on to your laptop then. That's how you sent those things to me,” guessed John.

“Right,” answered Sherlock.

“Why did you send me this stuff?” asked John. Sherlock looked away awkwardly.

Then Sherlock said, “It was an experiment. I wanted to see how you'd react to the knowledge of my salacious past. I couldn't just out right tell you, obviously. I needed to know how you'd react to it. That's why I sent it from an anonymous source.”

John was quite surprised. Sherlock was always conducting weird experiments. This one had to be the weirdest though.

“What was your conclusion?” John asked.

“You said it yourself,” said Sherlock. “It made you feel uncomfortable. Now I have my answer. We can go back to out lives as they were and I'll stop e-mailing you. Please shut your door on the way out.” John had many conflicting emotions, but Sherlock was ending this conversation. So, he left. 

“Can we really go back to our lives the way they were?” thought John. “The pictures made me uncomfortable, yes, but not for the reasons Sherlock thinks. I'm not uncomfortable with the fact that he used to be a rent boy. I'm uncomfortable with the fact that I seem to be undeniably attracted to him now. It's stupid though, really. It's not like Sherlock would ever return the feelings. It's best to just let this go.”

A week went by and John and Sherlock barely talked to each other. There was no bad blood or hurt feelings, but things had definitely taken an awkward turn. John was hoping for a case to bring them together again. Perhaps that would help them get past their discomfort. Thankfully, he eventually got his wish and not a moment too soon.

“Do you own a tuxedo?” Sherlock asked John one day.

“No. Why?” asked John.

“No matter,” answered Sherlock, avoiding the question. “I can get you one.”

“You didn't answer my question,” said John. “What do I need a tuxedo for?”

“It's for a case,” explained Sherlock. “I need to subtly get some information on a possible suspect. Well, he's going to be at a very fancy party for a very wealthy lawyer tonight. We will also be in attendance. Anyway, go down to the rental place around the corner and mention my name. That will get you the tuxedo. Be ready for seven. Anyway, I must be off.” With that, Sherlock left.

“I guess I'm going out tonight then,” thought John a bit bemusedly.

Soon, seven rolled around and John and Sherlock were ready to go. While riding in the taxi to the party, John noticed something rather amusing. He and Sherlock were wearing matching tuxedos with a reversed color palette. John's tux had a black shirt, tie, and vest with a white jacket and pants. Conversely, Sherlock;s tux had a white shirt, tie, and vest with a black jacket and pants.

“That's kind of funny,” thought John with a smile. “We look like a couple.” That last thought made John frown with a bit of embarrassment though. “That's stupid,” he thought. “We're not a couple. Sherlock isn't interested in me like that. I need to forget these feelings. It's just going to get me hurt.”

Eventually, the two men arrived at the party.

Sherlock stopped in front of a man at the door and said, “Sherlock Holmes and plus one. I'm Sherlock Holmes. This is my plus one.” Sherlock gestured towards John. He gave the man at the door a little smile, but felt a bit sad on the inside. He had been relegated to a mere, “plus one.” The man looked at a guest list on a clip board in front of him.

When the man found what he was looking for, he looked up and warmly said, “Sherlock Holmes and date. Welcome." This made John smile genuinely. He liked, “date” much more than, “plus one.”

The two made their way inside. They dropped off their coats and entered the grand ballroom where the party was being held. They both grabbed flutes of champagne offered to them and they stood towards the back of the room.

John took a sip of the champagne and asked, “What do you see?”

“Everything,” replied Sherlock. John looked around the room at the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen as he drank from his glass.

“There's certainly a lot of wealth in this room,” John thought. “I wonder what I would do if I had this kind of money.”

Sherlock pulled John out of his train of thought by saying, “I've located my target. I'm going in. Stay close.” 

Sherlock handed John his still full glass and crossed the room. John stayed a few steps behind him. Sherlock approached a man, introduced himself under a fake name and talked to him about things John didn't particularly care about. He zoned out and drank Sherlock's champagne.

After about ten long minutes, John overheard the man say, “It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Cumberland. I hope our paths cross again sometime.”

“Oh, I'm sure they will,” said Sherlock charmingly. Only John knew how fake that charm was.

“Did you find out what you wanted to know?” asked John.

“Yes,” replied Sherlock. “Now that I'm done, we can head for home.” Just then, John's stomach growled. He'd forgotten to eat dinner at home before they left.

“Do you think we could stay for just the cocktail hour?” John asked. “I'm a bit hungry.”

“Fine,” said Sherlock. “Go get something to eat. I'll be here.” John gave him a nod and then headed off in the direction of the food.

John got himself a little plate of hors d'oeuvres and a martini from the bar. He was milling about when he noticed that something was amiss with Sherlock. A man was talking to him and standing a little too close for comfort. He kept touching Sherlock and it was obvious that these touches weren't welcome. John watched the scene unfold, feeling conflicted. Just then, the man very roughly grabbed Sherlock's backside. John knew that he had to intervene right away.

John slid up next to Sherlock and put a protective arm around his waist. He pulled Sherlock close to him and away from the stranger.

“What's going on over here?” John asked. Sherlock looked down as if he were embarrassed of something.

“John, this is Mr. Andrews,” said Sherlock weakly. “He's an old acquaintance of mine.” Mr. Andrews laughed.

“Oh, I'd say we were more than just acquaintances.” This caused John to make a connection. When he was watching the video of Sherlock, that guy had said, “Mr. Andrews will be here soon.” John wondered if this was the same Mr. Andrews. Suddenly, John had an overwhelming desire to punch this man.

“Sherlock, darling, get yourself something to eat,” said John firmly. Sherlock was confused by the term of endearment, but did as he was told nonetheless.

Once Sherlock was out of earshot, John took a step towards Mr. Andrews and said, teeming with quiet rage, “If you ever touch my boy again, I'll kill you.” Mr. Andrews laughed again.

“ _Your_ boy?” Mr. Andrews said with a sneer. “He was a lot of other people's boy before he was your boy, and I mean a _lot_ of people.”

John grabbed Mr. Andrews wrist in a grip so tight it felt like he was breaking it and repeated himself.

“If you touch my boy again, I will kill you.” He loosened his grip and Mr. Andrews pulled his wrist away. He rubbed it and glared at John.

“Whatever,” Mr. Andrews muttered as he walked away.

Now that Mr. Andrews was taken care of, John rejoined Sherlock. The taller man still seemed to be in a bit of a surprised state.

“No one gets to treat you like that while I'm around,” said John. Sherlock just stared intently at his flatmate.

Then Sherlock said, “Darling?”

“Yes?” answered John. Then, he realized what Sherlock meant and blushed a little. “Oh, you meant, uh. You were asking why I called you that,” he said awkwardly. “Well, I, uh, I just wanted to let that guy know who's boss. I wanted him to know that someone was on your side and looking out for you.”

“Getting this point across involves pretending to be my boyfriend?” asked Sherlock. John was stumped and tried to sputter out an answer, but he was cut off.

“You don't have to explain,” said Sherlock. “It was very kind of you.” John sighed.

“I just didn't like the way that guy was acting around you. I was angry and jealous.”

“Jealous?” repeated Sherlock. John realized what he said and his hand flew to his mouth. 

Sherlock chuckled.

“So, how long have you been jealous of other men getting frisky with me?” Sherlock asked.

“I don't know,” answered John honestly. “Maybe jealousy isn't the right word. It's just that I watched the video of you and that guy. I saw Mr. Andrews feeling you up. It's terrible the way they've mistreated you. I want to take care of you.”

“You're awfully affectionate tonight,” teased Sherlock.

“I know,” said John. “I'm not usually like this. I think it's the two glasses of champagne and the martini talking.” Despite his sassy response, Sherlock was actually deeply touched by John's sentiments. So, he thought he'd do something nice for his friend in return.

“You used the term, 'jealous,'” said Sherlock. “I'm curious as to what exactly you were jealous of. Were you jealous of the man in the video kissing me? Were you jealous of Mr. Andrews grabbing my arse? Do you want to be the one doing the kissing and grabbing?” John wasn't sure how to answer these questions. He had already admitted to himself that he was attracted to Sherlock. So, it wasn't that he didn't want to kiss him and generally be all over him. What was his flatmate getting at?

Sherlock took a step towards John. They were now intimately close. He leaned down so that his mouth was next to John's ear.

“Do you want to sneak away to the loo?” Sherlock asked. Oh. _Oh_. John's mouth went dry.

John was just barely able to whisper back. “Oh, God, yes.”

Sherlock snaked through the crowd with John close behind him. He spoke loud enough that John could hear him, but soft enough that nobody else could.

“When we get in there, go into the first stall and get naked. The fanciness of this place assures a clean loo, but the first stall is always the cleanest. I'll come in about thirty seconds later.”

“Is that to discourage suspicion?” John asked.

“No. I want to wash my hands first,” Sherlock replied.

John did as he was told when he went into the stall. He quickly undressed himself as Sherlock briefly ran water at the sink. Then, Sherlock came in with hands smelling like perfume.

“Lock the door, take off my trousers, and put the toilet's lid down,” instructed Sherlock. John slid the small locking mechanism on the door and dropped to his knees to help Sherlock out of his clothes. Once the trousers and pants were off, Sherlock began pumping his budding erection with both hands.

“I thought you would want me to do that,” said John as he lowered the toilet lid. He didn't need an answer though because he then realized what Sherlock was doing. He still had soap on his hands. He was lubing his dick up. “Good thinking.” complimented John.

Once Sherlock felt that his penis was lubed enough, he pulled a condom out of his pocket and slipped it on. He rubbed a bit more soap and water into his now sheathed penis and then sat down on the now lidded toilet. His dick stood at attention and John couldn't help but stare at it. There it was in all of its pornographic glory. John had been dreaming about something like this for days now. His mouth went dry and he licked his lips. Sherlock looked at John with lustful eyes.

“Sit right here," Sherlock said as he pointed to the leaky head. John nodded enthusiastically.

John sat down on Sherlock's fully erect penis and felt quite full. The makeshift lube burned a little, but it wasn't as bad as John initially anticipated. He was still getting used to the feeling when suddenly there was movement. Sherlock was sort of bouncing up and down and thrusting into John as he did so. John, so overcome with arousal, could not keep quiet at the sensation.

“Oh, _God._ Sherlock. _Yes!_ ”

“Shh,” Sherlock hissed. “We're still in a public area. Be quiet or someone's liable to hear you.”

John was a little embarrassed by the notion of public sex. He tried his best to stay silent, but it wasn't working. He was drunk on pleasure and couldn't stop moaning.

“ _Sherlock_. Sherlock, please. More. _More!_ ” John begged. Sherlock shushed John again. This time, he decided he would help John out with quieting down.

Sherlock kept his left hand stroking John's penis, but now he placed his right hand over John's mouth.

“Make as much noise as you want, darling.” Sherlock purred into John's ear. “You'll be muffled now.” John took full advantage of this and moaned into Sherlock's hand. Soon, his arousal was ramping up greatly. He was biting into Sherlock's fingers and his face was flush.

“Yes. That's it,” whispered Sherlock seductively. “Cum for me.” 

John was in such a daze. He was completely lost in this world of sex. Someone could come in at any moment and he wouldn't even know. He was utterly deaf, dumb, and blind to his surroundings and he liked it that way. All that mattered right now was cumming for Sherlock.

“Cum for me, John,” Sherlock repeated. “Go on. You're so close. Ah, I can feel it. I'm close too. Ah. Ah!” Sherlock was cumming. John couldn't feel the ejaculate itself flow into him, but he could feel the very definitive pulses of Sherlock's penis. Anyway, that was all John needed to send himself over the edge. He threw his head back and came with a shout all over Sherlock's hand. 

Both men cleaned up as best they could and then headed for home. They didn't talk for the entire ride back to Baker Street, but as soon as they were back in the flat, John had a question.

“Why did you just shag me?” Sherlock shrugged.

“I deduced that you wanted me to. So, I came through.” John was still confused.

“Yeah, but why though. You're not sexually attracted to me.” Sherlock looked at John with utter surprise.

“I just let you ride my cock in a public loo,” said Sherlock. “You think I'm not sexually attracted to you?”

Now it was John's turn to be surprised.

“I guess I never really considered it,” said John. “Granted, I never really considered being sexually attracted to you either until you started sending me those pictures.” Sherlock smiled as if something had become very clear to him.

“Ah, my experiment was a success,” said Sherlock. John was baffled again.

“You lost me," said john. “Explain.”

“I've been harboring intimate feelings toward you for quite some time now,” Sherlock began. “I wanted to tell you, but the demons of my past prohibited me. At first, I thought if I told you about the sordid details of that part in my life, you'd be disgusted and want nothing to do with me. Then, I thought you might find the pictures and video titillating. Perhaps reciprocated feelings were possible and you just needed proper stimulation. So, I sent the pictures and the video to you anonymously to gauge your reaction. In all honesty, I think prefer, 'Sure-Let's-Shag-in-the-Loo; to, 'It-Made-Me-Feel-Uncomfortable.'”

John stared at Sherlock with shock, but he wasn't displeased.

“You're an absolute nutter,” John laughed. “Even if you didn't awake these feelings in me, I wouldn't have been disgusted by your past. On the other hand, I'm a little glad you did send me those pictures. Now I know just how attractive I find you.” Sherlock chuckled and kissed John. John welcomed the kiss with much love. 

When they pulled apart, John said, “I just have one more question.”

“What is it?” Sherlock asked.

“Now, I'm not sure if this will cause you some sort of PTSD reaction,” warned John. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Just ask me already,” said Sherlock.

John paused for a moment and then asked, “Can I put that dildo in you?” Sherlock looked at John blankly for a moment. Then, a wicked smile broke out across his face.

“Oh, _Sir_. Please do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Andrews' first name is Scott just in case you were curious...Y'geddit?


End file.
